Queen of Peace
by Gwinny
Summary: The Hooper and Holmes families are enemies and a marriage is arranged between Sherlock and Molly but will they overcome all their difficulties to find true love? The title is taken from the wonderful Florence and the Machine's song 'Queen of Peace.' Gorgeous cover art is made by yanyan. This was my SBBC story that was not finished in time. Rated M for violence and eventual smut.
1. Chapter 1

_Exeter, 1866_

Sir Arthur Hooper sat at his oak desk in the study of his house holding a letter, a letter from the Hooper's enemy, Sir Thomas Holmes. The feud between the Hooper's of Devon and the Holmes' of Lancashire had been going on for a hundred years. Nobody knew the origin of the feud, but generations had been raised to despise, hate, and kill each other. He wasn't aware that he had been sitting, staring at the letter for hours, until his wife Margaret entered the room.

"Arthur, what is it? Why are you sitting at your desk, staring at a piece of paper?" she asked him cautiously, hoping that it wasn't harsh news the paper contained.

Arthur was silent, but his lack of reaction betrayed the fact that his emotions were high. He was a man who hid his emotions; for him to be completely silent showed that this letter contained something very important.

"It's from Sir Thomas Holmes."

"What does he say?" Margaret prompted.

"I don't know what to make of his words."

Margaret came to him and wrapped her arms around her beloved husband. "You know," she remarked, "that you promised to always share everything with me."

Arthur felt that this news could mean harm to his family and he wanted to protect them from all the evil in the world.

"He has issued an invitation to us to come to see them at their estate in Preston."

"It's possible that he is as determined as you to end this feud between our families. There is no harm in a visit with them."

"There could be great harm in a visit," Arthur said darkly. "They could be plotting together to get rid of us."

Margaret shook her head as she kissed his forehead. "You and your doubtful nature. Sir Thomas Holmes has two sons and apparently another child on the way., Iisn't it just possible that he wants to end this feud for the sake of a brighter future for his children. Wouldn't you want to do that for Molly too?"

"I do want to end this feud, but I also don't want to risk my beautiful family by taking them into the lion's den, so to speak."

"I hardly think they have murder on their mind, Arthur. More likely they want the same thing as us."

"Why haven't they contacted us sooner?"

Arthur watched as Margaret went to stand over the antique wooden cradle that contained their two week old daughter, Molly. The cradle was spectacular, as it had been passed down through generations of Hooper's and now held the last remaining member of that line. He joined his wife to look down at the miracle that was his daughter. He would have liked to have had a boy, but when Molly was placed into his arms he fell in love for the second time in his life. As he glanced from his wife to his daughter he made the decision.

"We'll go., Wwe'll go to Preston to see what the Holmes have to say and hopefully you're right."

"Thank you from me and from Molly,." Margaret replied and gave him a soulful kiss.

The journey north would be long and arduous but Arthur was determined that if he could negotiate peace between the families, the long trip was worth it.

"This is them, father?" A young teenage boy questioned as father and son stood watching out the window, high up in a magnificent mansion.

"Thank God. wWe can finally put an end to all this violence."

Mycroft Holmes looked at his father and gave a deep sigh of relief as they walked down the stairs to greet their visitors. But Bbefore they made it to the door, an Irish Setter puppy came bounding down the hallway followed by a small boy running after him, brown curls bouncing.

"Myc! Myc! Redbeard run!"

Thomas laughed at his youngest son, Sherlock, who at three years old was fascinated by everything around him.

"Yes Sherlock, he's a dog, and dogs like to run,." Mycroft replied in ahis slightly exasperated voice, as if he was tired of explaining the world to his brother who was eleven years his junior.

Sherlock was hugging Redbeard who was returning his affection by liking the boy's face.

"Welcome Sir and Lady Hooper." Thomas had stepped in front of the servant to answer the door as he wanted to make sure that he was personally welcoming the Hoopers. "I'm Sir Thomas Holmes and these are my sons, Mycroft and Sherlock;, I'm afraid my wife Violet is indisposed at the moment."

"Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you all. Hello Mycroft and Sherlock." Lady Margaret smiled at the two boys. Sherlock looked at the woman with the silky brown hair and warm brown eyes and saw she held a bundle in her arms.

"Baby?" he questioned.

"Yes, this is Molly." Lady Margaret leaned down so Sherlock could see her.,

Hhe looked down at the baby and smiled as Redbeard sniffed at Molly and licked her cheek.

"Redbeard like Molly!" Sherlock spoke excitedly.

Lady Margaret smiled and hoped that this agreement would let these beautiful children live in a peaceful world where the Hooper's and Holmes' were at peace with each other. As she was admiring the children she heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up to see a beautiful woman with blonde hair and the most unusual blue green eyes that Margaret had ever seen.

"Sir and Lady Hooper, this is my wife, Lady Violet Holmes," Thomas Holmes introduced her.

"Sorry I wasn't here straight away, but I'm a bit slower these days,." sShe said as she looked down at her very pregnant stomach.

"Hello Lady Holmes, it is a pleasure to meet you. I'm Arthur Hooper and this is my wife Lady Margaret Hooper and our daughter Molly."

Violet leaned down to glimpse at a small baby with silky brown hair and warm chocolate eyes blinking up at her.

"Oh, she's beautiful. Can I hold her?"

Margaret carefully passed her baby to Violet who cradled her warmly.

"I so wished I'd had a girl;, Tthis one," she said pressing her hand to her stomach, "is another boy, I can feel it. I'm to be surrounded by boys!"

As she looked at her husband and sons, Sherlock grinned at her and seeing her holding Molly said, "Molly! Redbeard and Sherlock like Molly."

Lady Violet laughed, "it seems that my son and his dog are very taken with darling Molly;, Itand that gives me an idea on how to end this ridiculous grudge between the Hooper's and Holmes'." Everybody was listening carefully as she said, "Sherlock and Molly shall be wed. With this arranged marriage, the two families shall be forever bound together."

Both men looked to each other and smiled. "It seems that we do not need to have to talk endlessly and take part in delicate negotiations after all." Sir Thomas commented.

Sherlock looked at them, and with all of their eyes trained on him and worked out that they were planning something for him he didn't want, so and he turned and fled with his dog.


	2. Chapter 2

_Exeter, 1887_

Eighteen year old Molly Hooper was excited beyond belief., Hher fresh peach complexion was glowing, her chocolate brown eyes gleamed, and a smile curved her lips. She'd changed gowns with her lady's maid, Meena, and they were sneaking out of the house to attend the local May Day.

Since she'd been promised in marriage as an infant, her whole life she'd had proper etiquette pressed upon her from a young age. Her every movement was monitored and above all else she was never allowed to be anywhere near a boy or a man other than her fiancé. The problem was she'd never met her fiancé and didn't know anything about him.

So here she was sneaking off to a fair hoping for her first kiss.

"Molly, slow down!" her friend Meena called as the morning dew clung to their dresses.

"I can't, I'm free! For just one day I can pretend that I'm not engaged;, I'm not obliged to the family to end a feud I'm not part of."

As they entered the village, enjoying the mixture of music and the scent of food, Molly saw the maypole she'd been longing to dance around. She made her way around the May fair soaking in the scents of fresh bread and roasting meat that the locals had made. Villagers were there selling their wares of pottery and knitting.

The musicians were playing pastoral music for everyone to dance to and offering flowers to the girls who wished to dance around the maypole. As Molly approached the maypole one of the musicians placed a circlet of flowers around her head and she took hold of one of the delicate pink ribbons to begin her dance.

As she danced around laughing at the sense of freedom she had she saw a man watching her. There was something predatory about him, with his gaze locked on her. She looked away and danced faster before stopping and moving away from the maypole. As she stopped to wipe her head and look for Meena, she felt his presence behind her.

"Hello," she said boldly. She looked at him closely and saw that he was tall, had brown curly hair and eyes that couldn't decide if they were blue or green. He was very attractive and she blushed at her thoughts.

"Hello, who are you?" he replied.

"I'm a lady's maid." She hesitated. "And you?"

He remained silent, causing Molly to think that she'd been too bold. She was studying him intently thinking he must come from a moneyed background based on the crisp white linen shirt, highly polished boots and fine jacket. "You must come from a noble family."

He shook his head and bent down to her. "I'm just a visitor here," he said with his eyes boring into hers.

Molly smiled and relaxed now that she knew this man wouldn't report back to her father that he'd seen his daughter out unescorted. "Why were you watching me dance?"

"You're very beautiful."

She scoffed at this, and turned away ready to leave. Suddenly his hands came to either side of her head, holding her firmly in place. He pressed his mouth to hers, and she went still. She felt that something was magical was happening, as if this was the person who her first kiss was meant to happen with.

Molly turned her face away, making a soft sound of contentment. She was highly aware of the nearness of his body and his breath rushing across her face. They were both silent, motionless as they stood staring at each other.

"Goodbye," she murmured.

"Don't go," he said, as she walked into the crowd.

Molly rushed into the crowd, confusion wrinkling her brow. How could one kiss cause her to feel such a connection? It seemed impossible that one person could be made for another, but then why did his kiss feel so right? She hoped that they'd never meet again but was unable to shake off the intuition that somehow their paths would cross again.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly was walking home from the library where she'd managed to sneak out several manuals on human anatomy—a . A study which her father heavily disapproved of. She was so fascinated by the human body and desperately wanted to study biology, but her parents were determined that she was destined for her arranged marriage and nothing else.

As she turned the corner she froze.

Molly stared. "Oh my God."

There was a body slumped against the tree and she could smell blood. As she saw the growing pool of blood beside the body she prayed that he was still alive.

She stripped off her gloves and hurried to the man. who she found was still alive. His breathing was harsh and slow. He was grasping his right shoulder and it was obvious he'd been shot. recently.

Molly rolled him on his back and ripped a strip from her petticoat to bind the wound. As she wrapped his shoulder she glanced at his face.

He was young. His face was very pale, handsome with dark brown hair across his brow.

As the blood welled between her fingers she ripped off her coat and pressed harder on the wound. As she tried to control the bleeding she heard footsteps behind her.

Molly turned to see her brother Jim coming towards her.

"Molly, what are you doing?"

"I came across this man;, he's been shot! We must do something to help him!"

"Why should we help him?"

Molly was shocked by her brother. "We have to help him;, it's our place to try to save another human being."

"Do you know who that is?" Jim questioned.

"No, only that he deserves our care and compassion,." Molly replied.

"That is Sherrington Holmes, the youngest son of the Holmes family."

"That doesn't make a difference; we still need to help him!"

"Of course it makes a difference., Aafter all that the Holmes' family has done to ours, family we should just let him die."

"Hold on, did you do this? You just told me his name so you obviously have met him or seen him before."

Jim didn't reply he just held his sister's gaze and even though she didn't want to believe it, she realized that Jim was capable of taking another person's life. She had to help this man as soon as possible., Tthe last thing the Hooper family needed was being held responsible for the death of a Holmes' family member.

As she was hoping that Sherrington would pull through she heard the sound of hoofbeats. She was filled with relief, praying that this person would help her with her patient. She stood upright, turned, and stepped in the path of the rider.

The horse came to a sharp stop and the man on the horse used his body to control the horse.

Molly lifted her eyes to the rider's face and met his eyes. Even in the dim light she recognized his face. She'd seen these bright blue-green eyes before at thea fair. fair where this man had kissed her.

"You!" she gasped out.

"What the blazes are you doing here?" he questioned.

Molly stepped back so he could see the body resting on the ground. "I came upon him a few minutes ago it appears that he's been shot and I was trying to stop the bleeding."

She looked around for Jim, but it seemed that he'd slipped away as the rider was approaching.

The riderman approached the injured man and his eyes switched from the man to her. "Keep pressing down on the wound –hard."

"That's what I was doing," she replied, pressing down with all of her weight.

The man she'd kissed at the fair kneeled down and gazed at the younger man. "Sherrington, Sherrington—can you hear me?"

Molly's head swung around.

"You know him?"

"Indeed I do;, he's my brother."

Molly was stunned., Sshe couldn't tell him that she was a Hooper as she didn't know this man's feelings towards her family, but neither could she let this man watch his brother die.

She took a deep breath. "We'll have to get him somewhere safe where we can inspect his wound properly. I live not far from here. Iif you can get him on the horse, we can take him to my house."

He rose, causing her eyes to take in his lean body and her eyes to travel up to find his face. He was impressive, towering over her. He was attired in buff breeches, long boots and a white shirt. His hair was curly and dark brown. But it was his eyes which caused her heart to beat faster. They held intelligence and impatience as he caught her staring at him. She admonished herself;, this was no time to be admiring this man when another man's life huang in the balance.

He picked his brother up with ease and loaded him on to the horse carefully with the linens still pressed against the wound. Molly led the way to her house with him following her.

"How did you come upon Sherrington?"

"I was walking home from the library. wWhen I saw the body. I went to investigate. When I saw he was injured I stopped to help, then you came to find us." Molly thought it best to leave out the detail that she believed her own brother was responsible for Sherrington's injury.

"It was very brave of you to help."

"I'm not a simpering female who faints at the sight of blood. A man needed help and I helped him."

"Not everyone would stop to help a stranger."

Molly found herself blushing at his words. She remembered that this was the man she'd kissed at the fair two years ago and had felt drawn to. She desperately wanted to know his name. She knew that she was betrothed to one of the Holmes brothers, but she didn't know which one. She wanted to ask his name but it was un-lady like to demand a man's first name.

They came to the top of the hill where the Hooper house stood and Molly rushed ahead in the hope of finding a servant to help. She banged the door open, and shouted, "Help, we need help!"

The rider strode in holding his brother in his arms who was moaning in pain.

Several servants and her parents rushed to Molly's voice and stood stock still staring at the sight in front of them.

It was Lady Hooper who prodded everyone to action.

"Molly, show this gentleman to the first guest room."

"Sally, light the candles in the room and pull back the covers."

They all rushed up the stairs with the man following them to set his brother down.

Arthur Hooper came into the room and demanded an explanation from his daughter. "Molly, what on Eearth happened?"

At the name Molly the man's head turned sharply in her direction and she felt the stranger's gaze on her.

"Father, I was walking home from the library when I came upon this injured man. I couldn't leave him there so upon discovering his bullet wound I pressed down on it with the fabricon his wound on the fabric. As I was seeing to his wound this man came along and declared he was the injured man, Sherrington's, brother."

"Sherrington?" Arthur Hooper questioned. "Sherrington Holmes?"

"Yes, why does that name ring a bell?" the rider questioned.

"Which brother are you —Mycroft or Sherlock?" Arthur questioned again.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes, the middle brother."

Everyone in the room gasped as the man revealed his name.

"Why are you all shocked?" Sherlock inquired.

Molly looked from her parents to Sherlock and wondered how they would respond.

"We are the Hooper family and you are betrothed to our daughter Molly," they said as they gestured towards her.

His lips puckered as he heard the news. "None of that matters right now, all that matters is helping this young man,." Molly spoke confidently.

"Indeed., Wwe'll send for a doctor." Margaret Hooper nodded at a servant who left promptly for the doctor.

"That might not be necessary,." Sherlock responded

"Why?" Molly questioned. "Oh no, he's not going to make it is he?"

Sherlock shook his head and his voice quivered when he spoke. "I don't think he'll last the night."

Molly felt an unquenchable need to wrap her arms around him and comfort him. The need was so strong she actually stepped closer to him before stopping herself.

Her mother saw it and shook her head at Molly warning her that this wasn't what he needed right now.

They kept watch over Sherrington and did everything they could to help save him but in the end death came. All the while Molly was tormented with the truth that her brother had killed the brother of her betrothed. Sherlock hadn't seemed happy when it was revealed that Molly was his betrothed and he was going to be livid when he found out that James Hooper had killed his brother.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly looked at her reflection in the mirror, trying to make sense of what had happened during the day. She felt torn in two, she'd met her fiancé but had also discovered the possibility that her brother had once again stirred up the feud in between the Holmes' and Hooper's. She wondered if her face reflected her internal conflict.

Dinner would be quite stressful, and how could she sit still with the man responsible for another man's murder sat beside her. She'd always known that Jim had dark tendencies but she'd never believed he'd be capable of taking a life.

A feeling of guilt settled over her at the thought of Sherlock, her family was responsible for his brother's death and he'd have to deal with the fact that his fiancee's family was responsible. She'd have to tell her father and hope for the best. But one thing was certain, Sherlock would most certainly break the marriage agreement and want nothing further to do with her.

With her mind made up she left her bedroom and descended the stairs, only to come face to face with Jim. "Good evening, Molly. I wanted to speak to you before I left."

This was the last thing she wanted to see her. Molly studied her brother intently. Was he really capable of murder? He was handsome, charming and had always looked out for her. His expression was intent on her and his lip quirked up as if he knew she was analyzing him for information.

He took her by the elbow and led her to the sitting room. It had two seats which he put her in the elegant red one and sat across from her. Molly panicked and blurted out. "I know. I know that you killed Sherrington. Why? Why would you kill an innocent man?"

"Innocent, the Holmes family took everything away from our family, all of their wealth should be ours!"

Molly stared in amazement and horror. "That was decades ago, why are you so bitter? We've always had everything we wanted. Haven't you thought about the damage you've caused to our family and my future!"

"That doesn't matter, it had to be done. They have to be brought to their knees and you are going to help me do it."

"Never—" Molly started. He turned on her viciously and for a moment she thought he might strike her.

"You'll keep silent on this matter and you will marry Sherlock or you will lose your life."

Molly didn't want to marry Sherlock to bring misery to his family but she definitely didn't want to die. She opened her mouth to protest and this time Jim did strike her across her face.

"You will do as I say!" he all but screamed at her and Molly fearful for her life just simply nodded.

"Good, I'm glad you understand." He said calmly as if he hadn't just threatened his own sister's life. "I'll let you know by letter what to do next, but you will marry him." Jim walked out of the room merrily whistling while leaving Molly in a state of shock.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock Holmes was in the home of his fiancée and was torn between joy and despair. The lovely girl he'd kissed years ago turned out to be his fiancé. While this thought made him smile, the dark situation he now found himself in prevented the smile from forming on his lips. For Sherrington's death, vengeance would be made. He'd have to inform his parents and Mycroft of Sherrington's death and make arrangements for his burial. He glanced at Sherrington's body placed on the bed with his eyes closed and knew how deeply he'd mourn his loss.

After that, he'd marry his fiancée and put an end to the senseless Hooper and Holmes feud that was absurd to him. He was pleased to find that his future wife was pleasantly formed. She was petite and lovely. Her chestnut hair shone brightly in the light. Her face, with its peaches and cream skin was bright. Her lips were pink and delicate and she had a cute turned up nose; but it was her eyes that were her arresting feature, large and a warm brown, they glowed with intelligence.

What made Molly Hooper particularly attractive to him was the fact that she'd shown strength and was level headed when dealing with Sherrington's injuries. Most women would have become hysterical and fainted at the sight of the blood. Yes, she was made for him.

Right now he had to face the present, his brother was dead, shot dead by someone who had meant him harm. He was in the Hooper house, the sworn enemies of the Holmes' for some reason he didn't know but he thought it was something to do with money. Would one of them resort to this violence? All of these thoughts were rushing through his head and he suddenly jumped up right and shouted "Stop!"

"Mr. Holmes are you alright?" came a voice through the door which he yanked open. A petite woman, brown hair streaked with grey, was stood there, ringing her hands. He instantly smiled recognizing her as Molly's mother, Margaret Hooper. She was an older version of Molly and imagined this is how Molly would look when she grew older.

"I'm fine, I was just thinking about everything that I need to do, including sending for the local magistrate."

"Well we are here to help during this awful time, Arthur has already sent for the magistrate and he has arrived. I was coming to tell you that he would like to examine Sherrington."

"Thank you, your kindness is greatly appreciated."

The magistrate entered the room and examined Sherrington's wounds and confirmed his suspicions of death through shooting by a person. As the magistrate left Sherlock again looked to his brother and thought of his family. As he left the room he descended the stairs to find the Hooper family waiting for him in the morning room.

"What's the verdict?" Arthur asked.

Sherlock looked at everyone. "Death through shooting by a person."

"They don't know who?" Molly questioned.

"No, you didn't see anyone did you when you came upon Sherrington?" he questioned.

Molly met his gaze levelly. "No, there was no one present when I came upon Sherrington."

"I'm going to ride for home to notify my family."

"No need for that, I've sent two of my men to ride as quick as they can so that you don't have to leave during this stressful time. We've already got a suite set up for you." Sir. Arthur replied.

"I thank you again for your hospitality during this difficult time. I'm sure it as difficult for you as it is for me," he said the last while looking at Molly who was sitting on the chaise with her mother. He knew that this day had been difficult for her not only being witness to a death but by meeting him.

"Perhaps, Miss Hooper could show me the way to my suite," Sherlock said, glancing toward the stairs.

Molly rose and looked at him sensing that he wanted to talk to her privately. Probably to interrogate her more about how and when she'd found Sherrington. "I'd be pleased to show you our house," Molly replied smoothly.

He took her hand and placed it on his arm before leaving the room. As soon as they moved from the room, Molly spoke, "Mr. Holmes"

"Sherlock"

"Sherlock, I'm so sorry about your brother's death" as she spoke he felt the deep pull of grief once more but took a deep breath to clear space in his head. "We're all here to help and will help with all the arrangements and we will open all the rooms for your family to come here."

"Thank you, but that is not what I wanted to talk to you about. When I saw you I thought you looked familiar to me and then I realized you're the beautiful girl I kissed years ago. Now I find out that you're to be my wife. While this has been a horrible day I've also found a wonderful gift."

Molly was silent with confusion. She wondered if she'd heard correctly that this man was to be her husband and he was calling her beautiful. She felt a blush bloom on her cheeks. "That's a new one, I've never been called beautiful."

"Well, all the men around here must be blind, luckily for me," he replied.

Molly fell silent again as she walked him up a set of stairs he didn't know the turmoil that was under her skin. Knowing that her brother had murdered his and that she was expected to marry him. He felt her tension and wondered what she was restless about but decided it was probably about meeting her future husband.

"This is your room," Molly said as they reached a room beautifully decorated in greens and browns. "Good evening, Mr. Holmes." She said giving him a quick curtsey and slipped down the hallway to her own rooms.

Sherlock stared after her, remembering the kiss they'd shared at the May evening. He recalled his premonition of meeting her again and while he never believed in fate, this premonition had come true.

By the time Molly reached her rooms, her throat had tightened and her eyes were heavy with unshed tears. Her emotions were so tangled, she wasn't sure how she felt…afraid, angry, sad… and even in love. She had finally met her husband, spoken with him, and had even shared a long ago kiss. He seemed like an intelligent, self-controlled and charming man, that she could have nothing to do with.

She laughed at the fate of the situation. Why had she had to meet him now? When her brother had destroyed any hopes of her marriage. One thing that was certain was she could never marry Sherlock Holmes. However reluctantly, she couldn't attend the funeral, she would need to leave immediately and make sure that neither Jim or Sherlock ever found her as if either man found her it would be dangerous for both families.


	6. Chapter 6

_London, One year later_

Molly was striding through the street, thankful that her cap was shielding her face from the persistent drizzle of cold London rain. If she didn't reach Barts soon, she would be soaked through. She was thankful that she was wearing trousers and not long skirts as they would have been dragging along the muddy ground.

She was grateful that she'd chosen to disguise herself as a boy when she'd fled her family home. It made everything simple for her, she'd managed to obtain a position at Barts assisting Dr. Stamford with autopsies. Her long studies and fascination for anatomy had been beneficial to her in securing the position. She'd gone to London knowing that it would be the ideal place to hide from others. She was sure that her family would've hired a detective into looking for her but they were looking for a petite lady with long brown hair not a youth with short hair. Molly had come close to cut her hair short but found that she couldn't part with her long hair.

Molly rushed into the door of Barts and followed down the long hallway and then down the stairs to the morgue. Before she entered the room, she brushed at her damp clothes and took a deep breath smiling to herself about how grateful she was to have found employment doing something she enjoyed and could never do if she was found to be a woman.

As she entered the large room that had rows of dead bodies placed on trolleys and covered with sheets each waiting their turn to be carefully inspected by Dr. Stamford and his assistant Mark McCarthy to find out the cause of their demise.

"Ah, there you are Mark." Stamford acknowledged her presence with a nod. "Come and look at this man, he died in a very unusual manner." He said gesturing at the man who was placed upon the table.

Molly took a look at the body and could see that he didn't look any different than any other man. "He looks like a normal middle aged man who is well nourished." Molly replied.

"Well often appearances can be deceiving, that is why our job is important. To find out the true cause of a person's demise. We find truth and provide closure to families." He clarified. "That's why sometimes we work with Scotland Yard and even private detectives. Now look at this man's chest."

Molly leaned over as Stamford pulled back the two halves of the chest cavity that he'd cut through to examine the man's internal organs. "If you look at the trachea and main bronchi you can see widespread hemorrhages. Not only that but it appears that for some reason he had a recent and intense hemorrhage in the deeper layers. In addition, his lungs are very heavy and also show massive hemorrhages. I've also measured his stomach contents and it contained 500ml of a black charcoal mix."

"Doctor, it sounds like poisoning, but only poisoning over a long period of time would cause that amount of damage." Molly assessed after looking at the body and listening to Stamford's findings.

"I agree that the cause of death is poisoning and that it would have to occur over a long time but according to his family, he was in fine health and never complained of any sickness. As a result the family have sought out the services of a consulting detective who is going to assist the police in finding the murderer."

"Do you know this detective? Have you ever met him?" Molly questioned.

"I've met him once or twice. He's been a detective for several years and just does it for fun I guess. His family are one of the richest in England and there's even rumors that his older brother controls the government. I introduced him to his partner, Dr. John Watson, and now they both reside at 221B Baker Street."

"What's his name?"

"Sherlock Holmes, and he'll be here in several minutes to have a look at the body." Stamford gave her a smile and then went to wash his hands.

 _Sherlock Holmes! Here and now._ Molly froze at the words. Her flight from her marriage was catching up with her. If only she could disappear…but Stamford would find that suspicious when he knew that she wanted to find out the truth to the dead man's death. She was afraid that once Sherlock saw her, he would immediately deduce that "Mark" was indeed his missing fiancé.

She hadn't expected her future husband to be working, as he came from a wealthy family but Stamford had described him as a detective. That meant that she'd have no way to disguise herself from his piercing eyes. Even as she was thinking of another way to escape the situation he strode through the doors. He was as strikingly as handsome as she remembered him. He was a tall man with a powerful presence. Beneath a long black coat, a grey vest that she swore was pure silk, and grey trousers. His face was devoid of any emotion unlike the last time she'd seen him wrestling with grief over the loss of his brother.

He glanced her way with a questioning frown touching his brow. Molly's heart thumped so hard in her chest she thought it was going to burst from her chest. She met those extraordinary constantly changing colored eyes, blue green and mercilessly intelligent. She felt pinned in place by those eyes and remained still while his inquisitive gaze flicked over her.

"Stamford, I didn't know you'd taken on an assistant." He spoke in his deep-rich voice.

"Yes, I needed the help, Sherlock Holmes this is Mark McCarthy, he is an excellent assistant and has a great knowledge of anatomy." Stamford introduced her.

Sherlock continued to stare at her, as if trying to find some unhidden knowledge about her. All the while all she could think was _I'm Molly Hooper, the woman you're meant to wed, can't you recognize me?_

He was puzzled by the young man in front of him. He was obviously from a well moneyed background and well nourished. He didn't look like any of the Baker Street Irregulars and was obviously on the run from something in his past. There was something very familiar about him but he couldn't quite place it.

"Hallo" a voice intruded into Molly's consciousness and she tore her eyes away to land upon another man. This man was shorter than Sherlock with parted blonde hair and warm blue eyes. He wore a fashionable moustache and was also well-dressed. This must be Doctor Watson. She turned to him and held out her hand.

"Hello, you must be Doctor Watson, Doctor Stamford was just telling me that you work with Mr. Holmes. I'm Mark McCarthy and I've been assisting Dr. Stamford with his work."

Watson took the proffered hand and shook it with a firm grip. "I'm glad that Mike has finally found someone to help him. With all of the deaths and murders in this city he needs all the help he can get."

"Now that everyone has met each other, let's begin." Sherlock said. "Tell me about what you've found Stamford."

"There's massive hemorrhaging in the trachea and bronchi and shows that he underwent a recent and massive hemorrhage which caused deep damage. His lungs were very heavy and there was a black sludge found in his stomach." Stamford responded.

"It sounds like poisoning done over a long period of time." Molly spoke up.

"Indeed, the demise of Mr. Windibank is most certainly poisoning but not over a long period of time. This is arsenic poisoning, you can see by the fact that there is bald patches in his hair which is a sign of arsenic poisoning. Arsenic when given in small doses causes cramping and stomach pains but large amounts can cause death. It is an effect way to ensure that someone is killed. It seems that Mr. Windibank had at first been given the poison in small doses but the deep hemorrhage that caused his death appears to be given by a huge dose of arsenic."

Molly stared at him. His rapid fire deduction of the facts and of the dead man were amazing. He truly was a detective who could find the truth.

"So now that we have a firm grasp on the cause of death we need to find out who caused the death of Mr. Windibank. Good day." With a stride and his overcoat snapping behind him Sherlock left the morgue intent on finding the killer with Watson in tow.

"Well, that was Mr. Sherlock Holmes and yes he's always like that." Stamford spoke before Molly could question him.

All Molly could think about was how different this Sherlock Holmes was to the man she'd met a year ago when she'd arrived on scene of his brother's murder. Was it Sherrington's death that had caused him to become a detective? Did he ever find out that Jim Hooper was the cause of his brother's death? She didn't have long to reflect on these questions as another body entered the morgue.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock was sat in his chair at Baker Street, thinking over his meeting in the morgue and reviewing the case in his head when something struck him. Stamford's assistant had looked familiar to him as if he was a youth in disguise but the person under the disguise was someone he knew. In the past year he'd turned all of his faculties and keen observations to the study of crime, following cases that had been deemed impossible and had been able to solve them.

Even though he'd accomplished solving cases that didn't relate to him. His own personal cases he hadn't managed to solve, the disappearance of his fiancé and the murder of his brother. He'd been delighted when he'd met Molly Hooper and then for her to disappear the very next day was puzzling. The only logical conclusion he'd managed to find was that she'd had something to do with Sherrington's death, but he'd never been able to find any link back to her. She'd seemed genuinely upset with Sherrington's death and filled with concern for him. Maybe she was just a good actress he didn't know. His family had been devastated to find their youngest son had been murdered. His father had passed away from a heart attack a week after and his mother followed him to the grave three months later leaving only Mycroft and Sherlock behind.

The Hooper's had been very supportive but had also mourned the loss of their bright young daughter who seemed lost beyond any hope. When the local police force and hired detectives had failed to find Molly, Sherlock had turned his own observational skills to becoming a detective in the hopes of finding Molly and Sherrington's murderer. Though so far he'd had no luck.

As he thought more about why Mr. McCarthy made him think back to his own personal cases, recognition seared across his mind. McCarthy had deep brown eyes, a turned up nose and a petite body. His frame seemed too delicate for a man in his twenties and the lips he was sure he remembered. McCarthy was actually Molly Hooper. There was no doubt of it somehow he'd managed to find her. "Oh my god," he spoke.

Stunned that he'd actually found her by just walking into Barts, Sherlock was struck motionless. Watson approached him. "Holmes, have you thought anymore about Mr. Windibank?" he questioned. "Holmes?" He spoke again receiving no response. Watson just heaved a long suffering sign as Sherlock was probably just thinking again and ignoring him.

Suddenly Sherlock bounded out of his seat causing John to jerk back with surprise. "Finally, I found her!"

John had no idea of whom Sherlock was talking about. "Who? The murderer of Mr. Windibank?"

"No, John. My fiancé"

So far in his life, John had not often been struck silent. Sherlock engaged seemed so abnormal to him. He was so cold and a perfect reasoning machine. He never spoke of love or emotion unless it was with a sneer or a comment about how idiotic it all was. To find out that Sherlock was engaged at some point was a shock.

" _Your fiancé?"_

"Yes, John, my fiancé, did you not just hear me?"

"Sherlock, you're engaged? You've never spoken of it, who is she?"

"When I was a child my family made a pact with the Hooper family that in order to end the feud between our families I was to marry their daughter. Last year my brother Sherrington and I were riding south to the coast to find a ship as Sherrington was looking to join the Navy. We got into an argument one morning and he rode off. I rode off after him but he had a good start on me as my horse had thrown a shoe. When I caught up to him I found him shot and with a young woman stood over him. It later happened that the woman I found was Molly Hooper, my fiancé. We took Sherrington to her house where he died later that day. I was torn between finding out this woman was my fiancé and grief for my brother. The Hooper's were very helpful as they contacted my family and the magistrate. However, the next day Molly had run away. She was never found and Sherrington's murderer was never caught, this is why I became a detective."

John felt like he'd just been given a deeper look into the workings of Sherlock's reasoning and why he distanced himself from all emotions. The death of his brother and loss of fiancé had been too much to handle and he'd obviously decided that emotions were a weakness so he'd turned himself into what he thought was a machine.

"How did you find her?" he inquired as John didn't remember meeting any women when they were following up leads on the Mr. Windibank case.

"Again, as ever John, you see but do not observe, Stamford's new assistant. He was entirely too small for a man in his twenties, the face was much too delicate and the lips too small and bright to belong to a man." Sherlock responded.

"You mean that Mr. McCarthy is in fact a woman in disguise and that this woman is your lost fiancé?" John was starting to catch on to whom Sherlock was referring.

"Exactly, Mr. McCarthy is actually Molly Hooper, my long lost fiancé. I think it is time that I visit the morgue again."


	8. Chapter 8

Molly was arms deep in another corpse when she heard the door open. She felt a gaze on her back, like a knife between her shoulder blades. Her lungs stopped working; panic setting in as she slowly turned around.

Sherlock was silent, but as his eyes met hers, she knew that he'd figured it out, Mark McCarthy was Molly Hooper. She froze momentarily but when she whirled to get away from him his fingers caught her elbow.

He bent down to her height and told her, "Don't bother with what you have to say, I know it's you."

She knew that she'd never be able to shake off his grip and that he was furious. She knew enough of him to recognize that the flush over his cheeks betrayed his heightened emotions. He'd discovered the truth but what had given her away?

He pulled her into the lab and in front of a window so he could see her features. His scrutiny was so severe that she looked down but he would have none of that and tipped up her chin so that he held her gaze. He snatched her cap off of her head and her long brown curls came tumbling down around her face.

"It is you."

Although his words were filled with astonishment, she knew that he was still angry.

"How did know it was me?" Molly questioned given up all pretense of arguing that she was Mark McCarthy.

"Your voice and delicate features gave you away."

Her voice?

Deepening it. She'd forgotten to deepen it. When she'd seen Sherlock it had been such a surprise she'd forgotten to use the most important part of her impersonation—deepening her voice.

"Why did you do it?"

She couldn't give him an answer.

"Ah, no response. Let me see….you were stuck in an arranged marriage that couldn't give you the excitement you wanted so you disguised yourself as a boy and ran to London. Once here you found that you could work and never imagined that one day your past would come after you. When I think of it—all the time and money I spent looking for you only to find you right under my nose. Did you laugh when you abandoned everything?"

She was pale and silent, she refused to look at him, to meet his eyes, to assure him that he'd got it all wrong and that she'd never have betrayed him like that. She could never let him learn the truth it would hurt him. She cared for him and would rather have him be angry at her than find out the truth of how her brother killed his.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Each word was clear and heavy with emotion. Before he could respond she pulled away from him and ran away.

Leaving him alone in the morgue with more questions than before.

Molly sat in her rented apartment knowing that Sherlock would quickly discover from Stamford where she lived. She knew that he would come after her, but she knew that wherever she ran he'd come for her. She felt drained and wanted the charade to come to an end. She'd tried for hours to think of a way she could tell him the truth but every time she'd think of a way she would decide against it.

The doorbell rang and she knew it was him, only two hours had passed since he found her in the morgue. She got up with a deep sigh knowing there was no way she could avoid him. Hand on the doorknob, she gathered her strength, and hoped he wouldn't be too cruel.

"Hello, Molly."

She gestured for him to enter her small apartment, then turned and shut the door. She led him into the sitting room.

"Would you like some tea?" Molly questioned cheerfully.

"No, I want you to tell me what is going on!" he spoke with barely leashed anger.

She hesitated. "When I came across your brother and was trying to stop the bleeding, I did see someone."

"What? You never told anyone that there was anybody else there. Why didn't you say anything?"

When she didn't answer, he bent to her level so they were practically nose to nose. His eyes bored into hers. "You're protecting someone. My brother's death has never been solved because you are protecting the identity of the killer. Who are you protecting?"

"You, I'm protecting you!" Molly burst out.

"How on earth, is not revealing my brother's killer protecting me?"

"When I was providing help to Sherrington, my brother Jim came across me. He told me the identity of the man I was trying to save. When I questioned him how he knew, he said that it was only a Holmes man and didn't care if he lived or died. I had my suspicions that he'd harmed Sherrington. When I found out that you were my fiancé I couldn't marry you knowing that my brother had killed Sherrington. I became bold and asked Jim directly if he did it and he admitted he did. I told him that I wouldn't marry you as I didn't want to harm your family but Jim demanded that I go through with the marriage. I couldn't bring that upon your family so I ran. The morning after, I packed what I needed and left for London."

"You've been protecting both of our families, even though it cost you the life you should have had."

"What—my marriage, I didn't really know you and I've enjoyed my work here in London."

Sherlock was shaken and rocked to his depths since he'd learned the truth. Anger, fury, hurt and the thirst for vengeance were all easily recognized emotions. Underneath all of it was a deeper emotion that this woman needed his protection. His life now would depend on what he did next, he'd been prepared to ruthlessly deduce the whole truth from her but she'd willingly given him the details.

"What do you see happening next?'

She looked at him questioningly, as if confused by the question. "I expect you'd go after Jim and I'd continue to work here in London."

"I'll be going after Jim but you will not continue to work here as Mark McCarthy. Your future will be as my wife."

Several minutes passed as Molly stood in shocked silence, speechless. Then she spluttered out.

"W-what?"

"I now understand your motives for running away from our marriage agreement last year but now that I've found you again, we will marry. We'll also marry as soon as possible as this will draw your brother out."

"Oh, so you want to marry me to draw Jim out in the open. I was shocked that you wanted to just marry me."

"I am going to marry you, and it's not just to make Jim show his cards. Molly Hooper, I truly want you to be my wife. Ever since I kissed you at the fair long ago, I knew that you were the woman I should be with."

He kissed her, bent and closed his plush lips over hers, then pulled her tight against him. She resisted against him for a second, and then clutched his shoulders, as he claimed her mouth.

Molly struggled to hold of her wits. She wanted him. His arms were wrapped around her and she welcomed the passions he was igniting in her. She sensed his satisfaction in her passionate response to his kisses. Then he tore his mouth from hers.

They both gasped for breath, her breasts heaving while pressed against his chest. She opened her eyes to see his face. His face was filled with desire, and his eyes were a stormy grey with heavy lids.

His arms were still banded around her with one stroking her back, the other threaded through her curls.

"See the passion between us, you only respond to me Molly, because we were made for each other. You are mine and I have no intention of a family feud or murderer coming between us ever again. You need to ready yourself for you immediate future which is marriage to me."

With this last statement he dipped his head again to press kisses along her neck before reaching her mouth and taking her deep into the dark world of arousal and desire. This time it was Molly who pulled away.

"If we do marry, my brother will come after both of us, and I fear he will cause harm to your family and mine in a way that neither of us could imagine."

"I know but with our families together we can bring an end to this hatred. We'll contact our respective families and inform them of your discovery and of our upcoming nuptials."

After Sherlock left, Molly felt herself go weak after all the emotions she'd gone through. From being angry at his demands to being elated in his desire for her. But the main emotion she was feeling was that she was a pawn in between the two families being used by the Holmes family to draw out her murderous brother.


End file.
